Page:Vance--Terence O'Rourke.djvu/349

 "About that same time, one Captain von Wever was cashiered for conduct unbecoming the officer and the gentleman he pretended to be. He came to Tangiers, and, though he had no visible means of support, lived on the fat of the land. He bought him slaves, the dirty dog—slaves to wait on him; and one of those slaves was a man nearly white, corresponding in every particular to the man who had once been the Count of Seyn-Altberg. Now—this is the tough part of me story, Senet; sit still and wait till I'm through with it—the money that kept Captain von Wever going came from—can ye not guess where and whom? It came from Germany, from the poor, terrorized, little Countess of Seyn-Altberg that once was an American girl.

"Mr. Senet—I'm not quite finished, sir! That's better.

"And she sent it to Captain von Wever, not because she loved the dog, but because he threatened to take back to Europe this miserable, degraded, semi-idiotic, hashish-crazed Thing who had at one time answered to the name of the Count of Seyn-Altberg—threatened to carry him home, and expose him, and bring shame and humiliation on the girl. He bled her; she sent him every cent she had in the world, and still the infamous whelp snarled for more. And when he found that she was at last at the end of her resources, he made her come here to meet him and told her—I heard him this night, Senet—that she must give him five thousand pounds or else marry him—marry him while her own husband was yet living, and while both knew it!"

O'Rourke paused and glanced swiftly at Senet. The younger man was clutching the arms of his chair as though by main strength alone he kept himself seated. His face had become fairly livid—as white, well-nigh, as his collar; and his eyes burned like live coals.